He said, “That’s all for the moment. Now, I imagine you all want your breakfasts. Mrs. Kenyon won’t be working here for a while, and I don’t suppose any of us can blame her, so you’ll have to root for yourselves. We’ve already got our photos of the kitchen table, and we’ve finished with everything else in there, so you can have it back. I suggest the girls go out now and rustle up some breakfast for everyone. If you have extra, I could use some food myself.”
Mary Ann McKendrick spoke up, the first to break the general silence of his audience: “Is it all right for us to clean the table?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
Tom Burns was next. “What about us boys? You want us to stay in here?”
“For just a few minutes, yes. I’ll have a few questions to ask some of you, individually.”
Sondgard stood at the front of the room a moment longer, though there was nothing else to say, and as long as he remained there no one else moved. Then he turned and walked toward the door, breaking the spell, and the four women got to their feet and trailed out of the room after him. They headed down the hall toward the kitchen, and Sondgard went over to Mike, who had motioned to him. “What is it?”
“There’s a wire-service stringer outside. Transworld Press. What do we do?”
“Tell him to wait a minute.” Sondgard went back, slid open the door again, and called into the low buzzing that had filled the room once he’d left it, “Bob, could you come here a minute?”
Haldemann got to his feet and came hurriedly across the room. He stepped out to the hall, and Sondgard slid the door shut again, saying, “Bob, our first reporter’s out front. You want to talk to him?”
“If it’s all right, yes.”
“It’s all right. But I don’t want anyone else in the company talking to him, or any other reporter.”
“I’ve already told them that.”
“Good. Another thing, I don’t want him told anything about what we’ve got in the works. The fingerprint, or searching the house, or anything like that. You can tell him all about the murder, and the names of the people in the company, and anything else along that line, but the investigation is private.”
“Of course, Eric. Anything you say.”
“Fine. I suppose he’ll have to have a statement from me, so I’ll go talk to him now, and then you can have him. Oh, by the way. Our belief that the killer is necessarily someone in the company is also private. As far as the press is concerned, the killer could be someone in the company, or someone in town, or someone who just passed through.”
Haldemann nodded. His expression was serious and worried; Sondgard had no doubt he would strain himself to do the right thing.
Sondgard left him in the hallway and went out on the porch to talk to the reporter, a burly red-haired man carrying a small sleek camera. “Shots of the buildings and grounds are all right,” Sondgard told him without preamble. “But shots of the people involved are out.”
The reporter seemed taken aback. He’d clearly expected a more gentle tone, or at least a hello to start things off. He said, “How come?”
“Because the investigation is still in progress, and I don’t want you in contact with any of these people but the producer, who’ll be out to talk to you in a minute.”
The man shrugged. “I’m not pushy, mister,” he said. “I’ll take whatever you give me, and thank you.”
“All right, fine.” Sondgard felt himself relaxing somewhat. He’d made himself far too nervous and tense with that little bluff he’d tried in there, and so he’d been more brusque than he’d intended with the reporter. He said, “I really don’t mean to chew your head off. It’s just that this thing isn’t over yet, and I don’t want more elements in it than I can control.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Of course. We’re working on them.”
“But nothing for publication.”
“Not yet.”
“Could I have your name, sir?”
“Eric Sondgard. Captain Eric Sondgard, Cartier Isle Police Department.”
“I understand this is only your summer work, Captain, you’re a college teacher the rest of the year. Is that right?”
“That’s right. But I really don’t have time to be interviewed right now. I came out here mainly to ask you what may seem like a very strange question, but I’d like you to answer it anyway.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Fine. Just what are you here to report on?”
The reporter frowned. “How’s that again?”
“What case am I working on?”
“Well— The murders.”
“Murders?”
“Yeah, the...” The reporter was now at a total loss. “The killing of the actress yesterday, and that private eye that got killed last night.”
Which was what Sondgard wanted to know; the red-haired man had already heard about the second killing. He said, “As a part of the investigation, I’ve kept the information about that second killing from the people inside, including the man who’ll talk to you. I don’t want you to mention it to him. Talk to him exclusively about the first murder. Understand?”
“No,” said the reporter, “but I’ll do it.”
“Fine. When you finish talking with him, let me know, and you can talk to Officer Temple, the first policeman on the scene at the second killing. He can give you all the information you want on that one.”
“Fair enough.”
“All right, good.”
Sondgard turned away, but the reporter called to him, and when he turned around again, said, “I’m the first reporter here, right?”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can do you a favor, Captain Sondgard, if you’ll do me one.”
“Such as?”
“Make me press liaison. I’ll get the facts from the people you let me talk to, and any other reporters who show up can talk to me. I’ll keep them from getting in your hair.”
“That would be fine. What’s the favor I do in return?”
“Give me first word when you get him.”
“I’m not sure that would be so easy to do.”
“Easiest thing in the world, if I’m press liaison. Just allow me to sit on the information ten minutes. That’s all I need to get my call in, and have Transworld first with it on the wire.”
“Is that legal?”
“Sure. It’s only unethical, but it’s legal. And how’s it going to get back to you? I’m the one sits on the information. You gave it to me to pass on, and I held it ten minutes. All I ask is you don’t notice how long I take to spread the word. Okay?”
Sondgard thought it over. It was certainly fair, a favor for a favor. And this red-haired man was the first reporter to arrive. And it would be a relief to know someone else was handling the reporter angle.
He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “And, what’s your name?”
“Oh, didn’t your officer tell you? I gave him my card. It’s Harry Edwards.”
“Harry Edwards. All right, fine. The producer’s name is Bob Haldemann. He’ll be out in just a second. You can talk with him in his office over at the theater.”
“Thanks.”
Sondgard stepped back inside, and said to Haldemann, “He’s all yours. Name’s Harry Edwards.”
“Right. Oh, Eric, about that thing in the kitchen — ‘Bobby did it’ — do I talk about that?”
“Yes, I think so. A simple description of the facts, and that’s it. Oh, that reminds me, something I forgot. I’ll go back out with you.”
The two men went out onto the porch, and Sondgard performed the introductions, then said, “The reason you’re talking to Bob is because he’s one of the people we’ve completely eliminated from suspicion. His time is totally accounted for.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Edwards. He grinned. “I don’t know as how I’d feel right, going into that empty theater with one of your live suspects.”